


oh give these clay feet wings to fly

by albion



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Future, Established Relationship, Idiots in Love, Illnesses, M/M, Protectiveness, Secret Relationship, jean is a dummy but we all knew that already
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-05
Updated: 2013-11-05
Packaged: 2017-12-31 14:11:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1032614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/albion/pseuds/albion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When exactly did Eren become so perceptive?</p>
            </blockquote>





	oh give these clay feet wings to fly

**Author's Note:**

> Haha don't even look at me I hate these two idiots.
> 
> Man I wish more of my friends shipped erejean with me so I wouldn't be the only one randomly sitting at my desk yelling "dummies" into the abyss

He wakes up in the morning to find a smear of blood on his pillow that’s still bright and red and fresh. When he lifts his hand up to his nose, his hand comes away red and Jean curses. It’s exactly what he doesn’t need.

He ignores the steady drip down his upper lip, and waits for the blood to dry up so he can wipe it away with a handkerchief, blow his nose of the excess, and carry on as usual.

Being commander isn’t something he ever thought he’d be. He thought he’d end up quietly in the military police, occasionally having to deal with the odd crime or two, perhaps a kidnapping, perhaps a robbery, but nothing major.

A small part of him still wishes he had joined. The other part; the part that had held Marco’s charred bones and felt sorrow and loss flicker down his spine in a hot rush of searing fear, quells the thought as soon as it rises up in his chest.

He’s commander now, now that Erwin’s formally retired due to his injuries and working only on a part time basis as a consultant specialist. He’s still an active sight around the Survey Corps headquarters however, and everyone still respectfully refers to him as “Commander”, but it’s Jean now who attends the meetings and makes the public appearances.

He’s grateful he has Erwin and Armin and even Levi, still as blunt and rowdy as ever, to help him through the days when he feels the burden of each death on his conscience and the deep feelings of hopelessness engulf him. Erwin and Armin are always pragmatic about seeing the strategic value in sacrifice. Jean not as much. He still feels each death as a deep mark on his soul, and he’s grateful he doesn’t believe in any higher power, or he’d definitely have a lot to say for himself when he crosses the threshold and stands in front of the jury.

Jean goes about his daily routine and ignores the slightly wobbly feeling in his legs. He can’t afford to be unwell. He ignores it; ignores the way he stumbles slightly every time he gets up from his desk, and goes to sleep in a bed with one empty side, his legs shaking and his head hurting.

Eren comes back from his mission a week after Jean’s nosebleeds start becoming a regular occurrence, and the first thing Jean does is plug his nose with cotton before he goes to sleep each night, lest Eren see anything and start worrying. Knowing him, he’d think he was dying or something and rally the entire medical squad to give him a checkup instead of treating the war wounded where they were really needed.

Mikasa, Armin and Eren are sitting at the mess table, eating breakfast and chatting quietly when Jean enters one morning. He stumbles only slightly as he walks through the door, and rights himself quick enough that nobody notices.

Or at least, he _thinks_ nobody notices.

.

Jean sits down in front of his desk and sighs as Levi, smirking, places a new pile of documents on his desk.

“More of this?”

“Of course, _Commander_ ,” Levi grins, and hops gracefully back out the door on his crutches and his single leg.

Jean pulls the first sheet in front of his face and lifts his pen to sign his name along the dotted line near the bottom.

A single splash of red blood falls onto the page and he jerks away in shock. He’s bleeding again, and as Jean searches for a clean handkerchief he wonders idly if he’s dying.

All of his handkerchiefs now have old, dried blood on them, and he doesn’t know what to feel.

So he pinches the bridge of his nose and pushes it to the back of his mind.

Later, when everyone else has gone to sleep and Eren’s arm is thrown lazily over his bare stomach, Jean stares up at the dark ceiling and thinks about what he would do if Eren died on the next mission he sends him on.

It’s a thought he doesn’t often indulge himself in, because the thought of Eren not being by his side is simultaneously relieving and heartbreaking, and mostly because he knows Eren would sooner claw his way back out of the underworld kicking and screaming than go quietly.

He’d always thought Eren had a death wish. Now he knows that Eren cherishes life more than anyone else, because he’s always willing to put his life on the line in pursuit of a better one, however contradictory that may sound.

Jean rolls over in bed and comes face to face with Eren staring at him, wide awake.

He jerks back reflexively, and bashes his head against the brick wall with a loud thump and a yell.

“Sweet Sina, what the fuck?”

“Why is your nose bleeding?” is the first thing out of Eren’s mouth.

Jean lifts his hand up to his nose again, and even in the gloom he can see the line of dark red on his forefinger. He curses.

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s not 'nothing', because you’ve been acting really damn odd ever since I got back and Armin tells me this isn’t the first time you’ve had blood coming out of your nose. Are you ill?”

“No,” says Jean automatically.

“Bullshit,” Eren replies.

“Look, I’m fine okay? There’s nothing wrong. Nothing wrong with me.”

Eren reaches out for Jean, and Jean pulls back, hand clamped over his nose and pinching the nostrils shut.

The look Eren gives him is absolutely painful.

“Please,” he asks quietly. “Jean, let me look.”

“Why?” Jean replies, voice muffled by his hand.

“Because you’re obviously not well and I’m not going to just roll over and go back to bed.”

“I wish you wouldn’t press the issue.”

“You call me stubborn and reckless,” Eren mutters, “but just look at _you_.”

Jean pulls his hand away from his nose reluctantly, and Eren takes the opportunity to grab his wrists and haul him out of bed. They’re both still naked and the air is freezing, but Eren is always warm and Jean subconsciously leans into Eren’s chest, now so familiar.

Eren pulls Jean over to the window where the moonlight streams in and tilts his head back, reaching on the bedside table for something to staunch the bleeding. His fingers close around one of Jean’s bloodstained handkerchiefs, and he makes a face at the sight.

“How long?”

“Couple of weeks,” Jean admits.

“Why haven’t you gone to the medical bay?”

“Because it’s not a problem.”

“Not a problem? You’re having constant nosebleeds and you can’t even stand up straight.”

Jean looks down at his legs and realizes they’re shaking. He leans further into Eren, and feels Eren’s arms wrap around his shoulders.

“Come on, we’re going down to the medics.”

“Eren. We’re both naked.”

Eren looks down at the both of them and starts laughing.

“Okay, uh… we’ll find all our clothes first and then we’ll go down.”

.

Jean thinks that they must be a sight: the commander and one of his squad leaders stumbling down to the medical bay in the middle of the night in their night clothes, leaning on each other; but the woman who takes his arm and sits him down on a chair is strictly all business and doesn’t press the matter. No one knows they’ve been romantically involved for over three years, and have been sleeping together for at least two of them, and Jean would rather keep it that way. Not that he’s ashamed of being with Eren, but there’s something so juvenile and exciting about Eren sneaking into his bedroom in the dead of night and the thought that they could both be caught that keeps his heart pumping and his face hot.

The medic straps something around Jean’s upper arm and starts work. Jean has little to no idea what she’s doing, to be perfectly honest, but he relaxes and looks up at Eren, who’s running his hands through his hair and grimacing each time he encounters a knot. His hair’s fairly long now, and Jean doesn’t quite know if he prefers it that way.

Eren seems to understand what the medic is doing, and it takes a long moment for Jean to remember that once, back when they were still trainees, Eren had mentioned in passing that his father was a doctor.

How long ago that seemed. Back when they still had Marco, and Annie, and Reiner, and Bertholdt-

He stops his train of thought and focuses on the tight feeling of the strap around his arm. She’s measuring the pressure, if he’s guessed this correctly. Eventually she stops and unwinds the contraption from his arm, and Jean flexes his arm muscles.

“You have hypertension, my dear.”

Eren stops raking his fingers through his hair and looks at Jean. Jean looks straight back at him, because he has no idea what that means.

“High blood pressure,” Eren eventually says, when it becomes apparent Jean is confused, and Jean slumps back into the chair.

“Oh.”

“You’ve been working yourself too hard, Commander. It’s a good thing you caught it when you did. Left unchecked, you’re at risk for a heart attack, a stroke… quite a few nasty things. Not to mention this dry air isn’t helping anyone.”

Jean looks down at the floor and doesn’t meet Eren’s disapproving gaze.

“Do you smoke? Consume a lot of vine?”

“Not particularly,” Jean replies. “I mean, I don’t smoke at all, but I do drink occasionally.”

“What about your diet? Do you eat healthily?”

Jean thinks for a moment. “No,” he admits. Eren lets out a loud sniff next to him.

“And I’m going to assume as Commander that yes, you are under quite a lot of stress.” She stands up from her own chair and starts packing away her things. “I’m going to prescribe you something that may help, but the most important thing for you to do is to eat better, avoid alcohol, and take it easy.”

“Easier said than done,” Jean huffs, and then feels Eren’s arm underneath his armpit, helping him up.

“Take good care of him!” the medic calls, as Eren half drags, half carries Jean out of the medical wing.

.

“You’re a goddamn idiot,” says Eren, when they get back to Jean’s quarters. “And here we used to think _I_ was the dumb one.”

“What, you believed it too?”

“Well, I had moments. But so did you. We _both_ had moments, all right?”

Jean strips off his shirt and lies back down on his sheets. He’s joined by Eren a moment later, who’s taken off everything because he’s always a few degrees warmer than is normal and can’t sleep wearing anything at all.

Jean rolls over and watches the slow rise and fall of Eren’s breathing. He’s angry; angry at himself for neglecting his own safety, and angry at Eren for caring so damn much.

He raises a closed fist and lightly punches Eren in the arm, who rolls over, scowling.

“Jean, really?”

“Why do you care so much?” Jean blurts out.

Eren is silent for a moment, and the key around his neck glints dimly in the darkened bedroom.

“Because caring about my own safety is a bit pointless,” he admits finally, scratching at his leg. “I mean, I heal from basically anything, so I suppose all my energy that should go into looking after myself gets transferred over to you instead?”

It’s quite possibly one of Eren’s shittiest arguments to date, and the look on Jean’s face says as much.

“Then why not Armin or Mikasa?”

“Mikasa can take care of herself perfectly well. And Armin rarely sees combat these days. Why is it such a big deal that I care about you anyway? I just do. You mean a lot to me, and it makes me sad because you obviously care about your men more than you do yourself.”

Jean doesn’t really know what to say, because for once, he’s completely right and they both know it. When exactly did Eren become so perceptive?

“And besides,” Eren continues, closing his eyes, “I love you, you big pile of shit. So I’m going to give a damn about you whether you want me to or not.”

Jean smiles then, in the darkness faintly. “So... I guess I have to take it easy for a while then?”

“Yep,” Eren replies, and then yawns deeply.

“Willing to bring me breakfast in bed later?”

“Not on your life.”

 


End file.
